All Monsters

“Thank you for supper, Mrs. Harmon. I'll wash up,” Effy stated as she gathered up the plates from the table.

“Oh thank you, sweetie. Violet will be there to help you in a minute.” Effy nodded, giving her a small, disingenuous smile before disappearing into the kitchen. From behind the door she could hear the Harmons quietly arguing with each other and knew that she'd finish before Violet had a chance to escape and join her. She scrubbed the wet food from the plates in a daze, staring through the window that overlooked the backyard. She welcomed the emptiness of her mind, shifting her gaze to the influx of steam obscuring her view of the window. The warmth of the water soothed her nerves, causing the corners of her mouth to curl upwards.

“Jesus!” Someone hissed, pulling Effy's hands out of the water. Her eyes popped open to see Tate staring at her incredulously. “Are you insane?” he whisper-yelled at her.

“What are you talking about, Tate?” In an instant, he flipped her arms over to show her the scalding, raw red of her palms.

“That is what I'm talking about!” Effy's eyes widened at the sight. Tate flushed cold water on her hands, and she winced in pain.

“I am insane. I'm fucking insane,” she whispered, tears slowly coating her eyelashes. She peered up at him and his heart broke for her. Effy looked terrified, scared of herself. And Tate knew more than anyone, how bad of a feeling that was. He also knew that by the tensing of her chest that she was about to bolt. He caught her as she tried to escape through the back door.

“Shh, shh, shh. It's okay. I'm here, I'm here,” Tate cooed into her hair as he held her. She grabbed on tightly, surprising him with her strength, as she dug her nails into his back and cried.

“Let's get you upstairs.” He took her face into his hands, loving the way she hiccuped and nodded obediently to him. Tate settled her onto Violet's bed, spooning her and running his fingers through her soft, brown hair. She wept silently until she eventually fell asleep.
° ° °
Effy rose up from the bed at 4 am, groggy and weak. The moon shone dimly through Violet's bay windows, casting light on her pale face. She's beautiful, Effy mused. She wasn't sure if it was Violet's small, pink lips or blonde hair that reminded her of Panda. Maybe it was the closeness, the familiarity or her innocence, but the hint of guilt crept upon her. She deserves much better than me. Effy's eyes cast down sadly, peering at the varying shades of wood beneath her small feet. Quietly, carefully, Effy walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The front door creaked loudly as she opened it, causing her to pause and listen for any movement throughout the house. Once she was satisfied that no one had woken up, she closed the door behind her and climbed upon the concrete ledge in front of the house.

Her long, bare legs dangled in front of her as she lit up the cigarette she had stolen from Violet's desk drawer. Curiously, Effy peered at the couple in the house across the street that were passionately kissing in front of the window.

“Into voyeurism, I see.” Effy refused to acknowledge Tate, still embarrassed at herself for letting her guard down earlier. A while passed before Tate joined her on the ledge. He sat across from her, taking note of her tousled brown hair, her swollen, dark pink lips, and how her body looked in the oversized t-shirt she was wearing for pajamas. “Got anymore of those?” Effy finally glanced over at him, handing him the second cigarette she stole. She watched intently as he placed it in between his soft, plump lips. They leaned in simultaneously, holding eye contact as the flame from her lighter clicked on. He inhaled deeply, moving to place his back against the wall. Effy was the first to break the eye contact.

“Aren't you cold?” Tate motioned to her shirt. She took notice of his not-so-subtle sweep of her body. She smiled warmly.

“I'm from England.” Tate chuckled, shaking his head at himself for the stupid question.

“So what do you think?”

“What, of them?” Effy asked, glancing back up at the window. The couple were currently ripping off each other's clothes. They were bathed in a dim, warm light, making dark silhouettes of their bodies that Effy thought was beautiful. She cocked her head to the side as she watched them, and as Tate watched her. “They've been together for years. Something happened to them, and it hurt. Badly. There was a lot of pain and uncertainty, but in the end they just said, 'Fuck it,' and stopped letting everything else get in the way. They realized that they love each other deeply, passionately, fiercely. And now they're showing each other.”

Tate let out a long breath, trying to figure out whether he was attempting to suppress a smile or his own pain. Maybe it was a mix of both.

“Or they're just really horny and came back from a few drinks at the bar.” Effy laughed genuinely. The feeling of it bubbling from her chest was odd. It's been a while.

“While that certainly is possible, I don't believe that. They're not drunkenly fumbling around in the dark. They're equally taking and relinquishing control, and that's something that only really happens when you completely trust someone.” Effy swallowed hard, glancing down at the cigarette poised between her fingers. “When you're in love with someone,” she whispered.

“And you know how that feels.” A statement, not a question. Effy peered back up at him and nodded solemnly.

“I do.”

“What happened?” Tate scooted closer, taking Effy's hand in his. She let him, ignoring her pride and allowing herself to feel comforted.

“He was murdered...by my psychiatrist of all people.”

“That's fucked up,” Tate replied, appalled and disgusted.

“I'm still so fucking angry, because you can't trust anyone. Not a mother. Not a doctor. Not like that,” she gestured towards the couple across the street. “Not anymore.” Effy blew smoke rings into the dawn air, desperately hoping to rid herself of the stress knotted up in her stomach. Tate made no noise, and simply peered up at the sky, wishing he could touch it. He wished he could find something to say to her. Something that could make it all better. Something that could make her someday trust him, even if deep down, he knew that she shouldn't. A little while later, the light in the window finally turned off.

“Show's over,” Effy's raspy voice reached down into a place that made him shiver. She affected him greatly and she had absolutely no idea. Instantly he knew that she must have this effect on everyone she meets. The pull is intense, and all at once he could understand how a man that was supposed to care for her was moved to kill for her. Tate shook the thought off. The fact that I can see where he's coming from is fucking disgusting. He forced himself to create some distance between them, and steeled his eyes in the opposite direction. Tate's movement caught her attention, and Effy studied his pale face closely. She knew he was on edge. Well you did just tell him your boyfriend was killed. How did you expect he'd react?

A gentle breeze swept through the valley, moving Tate's blond hair into his eyes. He could feel her gaze on the side of his face, and it caused him to tense up. What is she thinking? He wasn't used to feeling like an insect, but she did that to him. Effy made him feel small, vulnerable, and uncomfortably naked. He needed to regain control of the situation before he went and did something stupid, like confess to her how impossibly beautiful she was. So he asked the question he didn't ever want to know the answer to.

“What was his name?” Effy closed her eyes briefly, smiling toward the rising sun.

“Freddie.”